Page 50 of Dear Adam
“One time, Chancy bit me on the ankle when they were out for a walk and she never apologized for it. She just muttered something about getting too close and walked away. I never forgave her for that. From that day forward, I always put our junk mail into her box. It was so satisfying watching her go through two of everything.”
“You are so bad,” Levi says with wide eyes. I giggle and playfully nudge his shoulder with mine. “When Adam wakes up, do you think he’ll be okay with this?” he asks quietly after a beat.
I consider his question, the same one I ask myself at least a thousand times a day. Will Adam be okay knowing the entire time he’s been in a coma, his childhood best friend and sister have been seeing each other? “I really don’t know,” I finally say. “He made it pretty clear in high school he wasn’t okay with it.”
“Surely things have changed by now, though, right?” he asks. Concern laces every line of his face, and while I should be more concerned about the topic at hand, I find myself pleased that Levi cares this much. “I mean, wearealmost thirty.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Something about it does feel weird, you know? We’re out here having the time of our lives together, or at least I am with you, ”I tack on sheepishly, “and he’s stuck in a hospital room with a million machines attached to him to keep him alive. I feel guilty.” I had hoped that finally confessing this would be a weight lifted off my shoulders, but now I feel even worse, as if saying it somehow made it more true.
Levi grows quiet and picks at a splinter in the wooden swing. “I feel guilty every single day,” he says quietly. “I’m the one who left him without a word ten years ago, and when he was nice enough to come visit me, when I definitely didn’t deserve it, this happens. It feels like a punishment for leaving everyone here in the dust.” He tosses the splinter to the ground then raps his fingers against his arm of the swing. His once sparkling amber eyes are now dull and full of sadness. When he speaks, it’s so low I almost miss it. “I should be the one in a coma right now, not him.”
The weight of his confession slams into my chest like a semi. All along, I’ve been selfishly thinking I was the only one truly affected by this. How did I never consider Levi’s feelings? Behind his strong posture and easy going attitude, he’s been struggling with the weight of thisandcarrying it alone.
I still his rapping fingers by curling my hand around his, choosing my next words carefully. “No one should be in a coma right now, Levi. And this is not a punishment.” He continues to stare at the ground and chews furiously at the inside of his cheek. “I wish you would’ve called or come back to visit in the last ten years, but I understand why you didn’t. That doesn’t justify anyone being in a coma, okay?”
He silently nods and looks out over the yard. There’s a cargo ship coming into the harbor, and the consequential waves lap softly at the rocky shoreline. Pretzel and Hank have curled up beneath our feet, only letting out the occasional muted yip as the result of a dream.
I rest my head on Levi’s shoulder, wishing I could take his guilt away but knowing the best I can offer is my love and support while he works through this on his own.
And that’s when I realize: I’m falling in love with this boy, and have been falling since the day I first met him, with his floppy hair and easy grin. I rub the calluses along his knuckles, noting how perfectly our hands fit together. Thisshouldbe a perfect evening, yet something is off. I can’t help but wonder if he feels the same.
Chapter twenty-three
Aly
“IthinkI’mactuallybusy, Mom, but thanks for the offer,” I fib and hold the phone away from my ear, expecting an earful. Sure enough, the unmistakable bark of dad’s voice booms through the speaker. Emma shoots me a pitied look as she puts the last of the flower buckets back into the cooler. It’s been a long day at Bloomie’s, and Iwaslooking forward to going home and spending the evening in my newly remodeled bedroom, watchingFriendsreruns. Apparently, my parents have other ideas.
Reluctantly, I move the phone back to my ear and catch the end of my dad lecturing me on the importance of family time. If only he would’ve given himself that little pep talk about twenty-seven years ago.
“I expect you there at six o’clock sharp, Alyson. Do not be late and do not bring that dog. Your mother had to buy me all new underwear after the last time you let that little rat roam freely around the basement.”
“It’s Adam’s dog, Dad, and I have to bring her. I can’t just leave her by herself.”
“Figure it out,” Dad commands, his tone harsh and full of anything but love. I rub my temples in an attempt to keep my temper in check.
After a few more minutes of lecturing from my parents, I end the phone call and release a pent up breath of air. Emma leans her hip against the counter and raises her eyebrows. “So?”
“My parents planned a family dinner tonight and, for some reason it’s incredibly important that I attend.”
“I wonder what’s going on…” she muses.
“Something about the charity gala, I’m sure. It’s still a few weeks away, but they hire people for everything: the planning, the food, the entertainment. They’re solely the name on the checks and that’s about it. They’ve never needed my opinion on anything before.” I scoop Pretzel up and flip off the lights in the shop. Right as we’re walking out the door, a familiar Mini Cooper pulls up in front, and my heart races.
“He really has no shame driving that thing around, does he?” Emma asks under her breath.
“I see it as confidence, and I think it’s very attractive, thank you very much.”
“Call me if you need me later,” she calls over her shoulder and jogs to her car.
Levi unfolds himself from the tiny car, and I decide then that I’ll never tire of the way his shirt stretches across his broad chest, hinting at what’s underneath. His beard has been neatly trimmed and his usual baseball cap is gone, his hair neatly combed. A soft lick from Pretzel brings me back to Earth and with it, a plan to make this evening not so terrible. He casually kisses me on the cheek, and the spot where his lips touched flushes.
“Why is Pretzel wearing goggles?” he asks in lieu of a greeting.
I point to the Vespa. “How else am I supposed to protect her little eyes?”
“Where does she sit?” he asks, walking around the Vespa and inspecting it like an extra seat would magically appear.
“I…put her in my backpack and wear it backward on my chest,” I stammer, embarrassed, and he chokes back a laugh behind a balled up fist. “Whatever. It works. And who are you to judge? You’re driving around a car that has eyelashes.”
